


I Need A Doctor

by TheCobraOfHell



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gore, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCobraOfHell/pseuds/TheCobraOfHell
Summary: The Quaestor is so kind to have fulfilled your desire for an up close and personal surgery, especially after you confided in them that you need a doctor. Needless to say, you're both very excited for it. Vag!Reader





	I Need A Doctor

It feels weird to be in the dungeons alone and without the milling of students, taking notes or making sketches of anatomical pieces. Well- you aren’t alone. You fiddle in your particular desk, feeling over the grains of wood as the doctor finishes up sealing the beetle chamber. You’re hyper aware of the skittering and the sounds of chewing that come from the spot- but you don’t have the time to dwell on it as hands spread firm over your desk in front of you. 

You look up- and Valdemar looks back down at you, very obviously grinning behind their mask. That look gives you trembles every time even though you’ve known them for months at this point. There’s something about their eyes that makes your heart freeze and pulse tighten-

And your gut twist in eagerness. 

“The table’s all ready for you, doll.”

Their voice is dangerous, venomous, and accented with the offer of a gloved hand that you take way too quickly. Their other hand winds back, hung on your waist as they guide you up to the center table. Standing on the top step makes you feel vulnerable, as though dozens of pairs of eyes are staring you down despite you and the doctor being the only two here. When you get close enough to lay a hand on the table, you notice that it’s impeccably clean. 

“You actually cleaned it…?”

Valdemar grins, closing their eyes contentedly with a nod. “Of course. I’ve prepared it specially for you, my little puppet. Now, hop on-” Always one to get right down to business, they usher you forward, helping you up onto the table and pressing you back to lay in position. They’re forceful but tender, strapping your wrists and ankles down and finally hooking the last leather strap over your stomach. 

They pause afterwards, admiring your newly bound form as you experimentally tug on the straps. At their gaze, you muster a bashful smile, trying to calm the slowly growing nerves. As though sensing your anxieties, they reach out, caressing a gloved hand over your cheek and holding you sweetly. 

“You look so good on my table.” The comment makes a whimper crawl up your throat, and seeing that you are still interested, Valdemar departs, pulling out their case of instruments they’d always preferred. You become hyper aware of how cold it is down here, muggy and humid as well in an uncomfortable air you should be used to. Although completely alone, the feeling of observation never leaves you, making you feel exposed and bare to the entire world to judge. Only the caress of cold metal shakes you back as Valdemar leans over you again, large iron scissors in their grip and hooking onto your clothes before snipping them off. 

It’s thrilling, the feel of cold metal and slowly exposed skin following by leathered caresses. You admire how quick they are, snipping away your clothes like they’ve done this thousands of times before, flicking away the fabric as it leaves your body. You’re entirely naked within barely a minute, and when that minute closes, Valdemar gives a deep, relieved exhale. They take in the bare sight of you, eyes crawling over you from toe to collar and then stopping on face. 

“What are you doing to do to me, Doctor?”

At your squeak, Valdemar smiles and, surprisingly, pulls their mask free. “Anything I want to, doll. You wouldn’t be able to even put up a fight with those straps…”

You notice then, off to the side, their case of instruments opened on the table. Before you can ask, they’re already grabbing for them, pulling back with a Liston knife first. Perfect in nearly every situation, they seemed to always describe it, and that counted with cutting skin. 

They ready their blade, below your sternum, and connect their gaze with yours as the tip sinks in. You and your doctor both sigh as the flesh parts, almost too easily giving way to their talented blade, but their exhale seemed much more pleased than your own of the slow, pained ache. Through the pain, you feel a pressure dig into you, and Valdemar’s fingers slowly peel your flesh away to reveal your gorey insides. 

Then they moan. It’s a soft, muffled sound, one that you barely caught as they backed away and turned, trying to compose themselves. The moment they take is barely more than a few seconds, and they turned back with renewed vigor, looking over your naked, bleeding form. You summon the energy to ask sweetly, “You okay, Doctor?”

“Yes- yes I’m fine.” Or that’s what they say when they turn back, hands immediately back to work, but their face says something else. You can see their cheeks, peppered in light freckles and flushed, and their red eyes wide and pupils dilated, blown wide in- arousal. 

“Doctor- please continue, I need you,” your utterance is met with their heavy-lidded gaze, a hesitance in their movements before fingers dip back inside your mass of flesh. You can feel them there, prodding and poking, slowly pulling at your insides. The feeling is something you’d never imagined, an intense pressure and hot scorching- and the pressure gets worse as you look down and see their hands withdraw- pulling with them a chunk of your intestines. It surprises you too how wet this makes you, your thighs slick in your own arousal, slowly, gently rubbing against each other (as much as the leather straps allow) as to not bother Valdemar too much. Then again, maybe they like it too… “Doctor-”

“Yes?” They perk up instantly, eyes peering over you expectantly. You shift and suddenly realize how hard it is to move in these straps. Oh no- you don’t want to get away, but damn you wish you could open your legs for them. They sense your frustration and look down, taking in the sight of your legs pinned, trembling, holding back your heat. They get it- and move to unstrap your ankles. 

“Thank you.” You plead out to them, the cool air a stark contrast to your heat that makes you tremble more. Valdemar nods, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and attention firm on you at the newfound exposure. One hand continues meandering in your guts, feeling the way they squirm and work while their other hand grips your thigh, kneading the thick flesh in tentative, planning strokes upward. The lilt of their name leaves your lips, and that’s what motivates them to finish the deed, two fingers finally caressing over your wet lips and then curling inward. 

You’re lost then, lost as they gently finger you open in two vastly different areas of you body. This is pleasure, no longer the pure agony of un-ethered surgery. Your eyes drift shut, sinking into this feeling more, letting them play with you like a puppet. You can feel your fluids gushing out, over their gloved hands and onto the vivisection table, both blood and the first juices of your impending climax. God- you were going to cum from being finger fucked in the guts, weren’t you?

“Valdemar- Quaestor Valdemar- I’m…” With your legs now free you opened them wide, letting them dangle over the sides of the table you sat on, as though begging with mere action alone for them to do more. Valdemar gave in, two fingers pistoning into your pussy in loud, delicious squelches, driving you hard and fast towards your climax. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t hold on, and when they squeezed down into your gut, feeling forceful with your insides, you can’t help but scream and tremble, wave after wave of endorphins rushing over and encapsulating you. It’s a feeling you could become addicted to- what if, in time, you can only orgasm with your stomach opened to the air? You wonder if that’s a bad thing. 

Your glance back at Valdemar helps confirm something for you- they enjoy it just as much. As your orgasm winds down, you take in the sight of their flushed, heavy-lidded expression, lost in the way your body’s convulsed, lost in the way your blood and juices gushed over them. They’re leaning into the table, hard, barely able to stand as they– cum too. You can tell by the way they moan into their mask, eyes shut hard and shivers tracing their shoulders. 

They’re silent then, hands stuck in you as they tried to tame the mad shivering inside of them. You’re honestly a little amazed, it was with only playing with your stomach and touching you that they came, they didn’t even need to be touched for it. Once their high slowly finishes, they move to unstrap the rest of the leather holding you, hesitating in sewing up your wounded self. “Hmm- perhaps I should attend to that,” they think out loud to themselves, giving a knowing look to you as they lean away, grabbing their supplies once more. “Although, no promises that I can keep my hands to myself this time around either, doll.”

Of course- you wouldn’t want them to keep their hands off of you either.


End file.
